


Fear and Responsibility

by TaraLaurel1



Category: Four Brothers (2005)
Genre: Brotherhood, Brothers, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fatherhood, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraLaurel1/pseuds/TaraLaurel1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'All that **** that you always spat at me about not runnin' away from your problems! You're a liar and a –' Jack never finished that sentence. Bobby's fist finished it for him. It was a first for the family. The boys were rough, of course, but when it came to Jack, no one ever hit him – ever." Bobby makes a choice that Jack, Angel & everyone else, can't agree with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changes

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Okay, okay, so similar stories have been done, but this one is just a little something I cooked up. I couldn't get it out of my brain so here it is, on paper, or computer screen, technically. It's going to be short and sweet, nothing dragging out. It's about Bobby, yes, but it is VERY heavily focused on the Bobby/Jack brother relationship.

Jack absentmindedly rubbed his knee as he lay lazily across the couch. He had endured the seemingly endless surgeries and had long since completed his infuriating physical therapy sessions. Still, almost a year after two bullets had taken up temporary residence in his left leg, he could still feel the pain from the day. Sometimes it was severe, but mostly it was minor. The doctors had told him it was a miracle he could walk and his current discomfort was nowhere near what he had suffered that day in the snow. Now it was merely an echo of the agony. And every time the aching echoed, so did the memory. If that's all he had to bear after being shot four times, then Jack would gladly take it. That day could have ended far differently and each brother knew that.

That knowledge drove the four brothers to make a few changes in each of their lives. Jerry came over to the family home as often as he possibly could to assist in the repairs and spend time with his brothers. He also realized his dreams were still in real estate, but from a much different setting. He returned to his childhood love and began working as a construction worker. He promised both his families that he was going to become an architect. When Angel was asked to return to the Marines he declined and took a job alongside his older brother, his eye on a project manager position. He even proposed to Sofi, who had all but taken up permanent residence in the Mercer home. Jack didn't return to New York when he was finally healed. He wasn't that person anymore. There were enough clubs, bars and venues in Detroit to allow him to continue playing for the public, but on a smaller scale and closer to home.

Bobby, they all believed, was the most changed of them all. It had been almost a year and still here he was, not making plans to leave or even mentioning it. Bobby Mercer rarely stayed in one place for too long. He had been hopping around the country ever since he turned 18, and by Evelyn's contingency, received his GED. Most of the times he was forced to leave a city were due to his inherent knack for getting into trouble. Since putting Sweet down and lying to the police Bobby had been the closest to a model citizen he was probably capable of being. He stayed out of fights and hadn't been in a single high speed chase since they hunted down their mother's killers. The eldest Mercer was even holding down a mechanic job, picking up shifts at Johnny's when he needed the extra cash and sometimes helped out Jerry and Angel if they were running behind on a job.

It seemed that the Mercer brothers were all finally settling down.

Jack was still massaging his leg when the banging erupted. He flinched at the sudden sound. Jack would never not start at the knocking of a door, not anymore. Jack grunted and heaved himself off the couch. Peeling back the curtains, Jack peered out at a woman and small boy standing outside their door. With a confused curse, Jack cracked open the door and squinted out into the midday sun at the strangers.

"Is Bobby here?"

She didn't offer Jack a greeting, or even a smile. She was disheveled, to say the least. Her hair was thin and almost too straight. It hung lifelessly around her possibly once pretty face. She possessed the eyes of someone twice her age, but also of someone who was once beautiful. Jack could almost envision them the way the once were, sparkling with fire and life. Now they were dead, vacant chasms of hopelessness, of too many things seen. Jack recognized that look. He also recognized the way her clothes hung off her almost skeletal body. Her striking ivory skin that years earlier was most likely flawless, was now decorated with marks. Jack knew those too.

"Who –"

"Is he here?" The woman demanded defiantly, yet with a hint of desperation.

Jack backed away inside the house and cocked his head toward the stairs, calling out for Bobby. His eldest brother would be far from pleased for being awoken after bartending the previous night. Jack just hoped he wouldn't kill him in front of the woman and child.

It was several very long and very awkward moments before a grumbling and staggering Bobby made his sleepy descent down the stairs.

"I swear, Jack, if you –" Bobby stopped mid-sentence, and then mid-step.

His previously heavy and sleep slathered eyes were now wide and staring at the woman in such a way that Jack had never seen Bobby look at anyone.

"Hi, Bobby," the woman's voice was far more fragile when she addressed Bobby than how she had spoken to Jack.

There was an entire world of fear and pain and guilt behind those two words.

Bobby forcibly swallowed, his eyes almost mechanically shifting from the woman to the boy at her side and then back.

"Jack," Bobby's voice was far too controlled for Jack's comfort. "Go upstairs."

Jack didn't hesitate. Bobby was about to explode and Jack didn't desire to be caught in the blast. He turned just a bit took quickly and his knee painfully protested. A white flash of agony coursed through his entire body. The next thing Jack knew, he was in his brother's arms at the foot of the stairs.

"–ack, you good?"

Jack blinked away the blindness and nodded as Bobby helped him to his feet.

"You takin' your meds?" It was more of an accusation than a question.

Jack shook his head. There was no point in trying to lie to Bobby.

"Damn it, Jack," Bobby's focus had entirely shifted, nearly forgetting about the duo on his doorstep. "You're supposed to be usin' that cane, too, on your bad days."

"Like fu –" Jack paused, eyeing the kid, "I ain't usin' no da – stupid cane."

"You will or I'll beat you over the head with it," Bobby warned. "You already bailed on therapy."

"They said I could go," Jack shrugged.

"Yeah, but they also said you shouldn't," Bobby added with a shake of his head but then took his brothers shoulders and spoke in almost a whisper. "We talked about this, Jackie. You, Jerry n' Angel are all I got. I  _can't_ lose you. We got to get it together. All 'a us. You got to take care 'a yourself, man."

This was something else that had changed since the shooting. Bobby would never stop ribbing his brothers, but he allowed for more of these moments now – and so did they.

Jack just nodded, bowing his head solemnly as he did so.

"Now get the hell upstairs, take your damn meds and play some 'a that fairy music I hate."

Jack silently obeyed as he headed up the steps.

"And use the rail!" Bobby barked up at his brother who was bounding up the stairs far too fast for his liking.

Bobby turned back around and was swiftly reminded of the shock he had received mere moments earlier.

"I knew I was right," the woman smiled almost sweetly.

"What the hell are you doin' here, Lisa?" Bobby paused and looked her over properly this time. "And what the hell happened to you?"

"I knew I was right," she repeated, ignoring Bobby's bathing of questions. "You were always so good with Jack, with all them, all your brothers. I knew I could count on you with this."

"With that?" Bobby demanded, ignoring the screaming voice inside his head that already knew the answer. "What're you doin' here?"

"Bobby," Lisa brought her trembling hand down on the boy's shoulder. "This is your son."


	2. Walking Out

Bobby had barely remembered how to breathe after the first bombshell Lisa had dropped, when she dropped another one, quite literally, on his doorstep. Lisa had another surprise and this one was enough to make Bobby forget he even had lungs.

She was leaving.

Without her son.

Their son.

His son.

Bobby didn't hear her reasons or excuses. He couldn't hear anything. He could barely think. He was pretty sure he still wasn't breathing.

And then the door closed and she was gone.

In her place stood a short, stocky stump of a boy. He small hands were wrapped into tight fists and shoved so far down into his pockets it made his shoulders slump. Just as Bobby had been avoiding looking at him, the kid kept his eyes seared to his soiled sneakers.

Neither moved or spoke.

Bobby wasn't sure how long they had been like that when Angel and Sofi came chasing each other down the staircase. The two lovers stopped their game when they noticed the silent standoff.

"Who the kid?" Angel glanced with narrowed eyes from the boy to his brother.

When he didn't receive a response, Sofi stepped in, leaning down to meet the child's downcast gaze.

"What is your name, chiquito?"

Bobby stiffened. He didn't even know his own son's name. Of course, five minutes ago he hadn't known he had even had a son. Part of him wasn't sure he wanted to even know. Knowing his name would make walking away from him that much more difficult.

Before the boy could answer and foil Bobby's plans, the eldest Mercer finally spoke, his voice cracking in protest.

"He's my son."

Yet again, there was absolute silence. Very seldom was there such stillness in the Mercer household. Now you could have heard a feather falling.

Without another word, Bobby grabbed his coat from the rack and stalked past his child and out the front door. Angel shared a knowing glance with his fiancé and stepped out after his older brother.

Sofi quietly lead the child away and out of earshot of what she knew was going to be a verbal fistfight. Bringing him upstairs, Sofi wondered what the Mercer brothers had that could entertain a child. She was too reeling in the shock of the news, but her female or maternal or whatever instincts she had kicked in full force. All her focus centered on the kid. She knew absolutely nothing about him, let alone little boys.

Taking the child's hand, she gently knocked on Jack's door.

"Jack, it's me."

The youngest Mercer brother was pulled from his songwriting at the soft sound and voice. Sofi never knocked, and she certainly never whispered.

Jack and Sofi had actually grown close since the shooting. The two had known each other for years, but something had changed. Sofi had had a large part in Jack's recovery. She never once teased him, yet she also did not make him feel like a helpless, breakable baby, as his brothers did both. He had been sentenced to being stuck in bed for quite some time and therefore was unable to escape when the well-meaning woman would barge into his bedroom. What started out as simply tolerating his brother's girlfriend, grew into a meaningful friendship. The two talked in ways Jack never could with his brothers, nor could Sofi with Angel. They shared secrets, swapped stories, laughed over memories and bonded over pain. Jack now knew Sofi and the woman at his door acted and sounded nothing like her.

Limping across the room, Jack pulled the door open, staring at Sofi in confusion, and then at the boy in concern.

_Where was the woman who was at the door? Who is this kid? Why does Sofi look like she's going to cry. Oh shit –_

Tears were already trembling in the corners of her eyes as she ushered the boy inside Jack's room without permission.

"Sofi?" Jack asked as she brushed past him. "What the f- heck is goin' on?"

"Oh, Jack," Sofi swallowed, sitting down on his bed, "I'm sorry. I've just never seen him like that before."

"Who?"

"Bobby," Sofi shook her head, stroking the silent child's hair.

"Bobby? What happened? What's wrong?"

"Even after your mother, I never saw him look like that. Not sad. Not angry. Nada."

"Damn it Sofi, what the hell are you talkin' about?" Jack demanded, all decorum out the door.

"Bobby," Sofi finally looked up at Jack and then down at the child, "this is his son."

Jack felt his legs go weak, and not because of his bad leg. He collapsed onto the end of his bed next to Sofi, staring at the little boy who apparently found his own shoelaces remarkably interesting.

"His – his –" Jack didn't know why his mouth wouldn't let him form the simple word. "Bobby has a – I don't – where is he?"

"Gone," Sofi said sadly.

"Gone?" Jack's shock shifted to rage.

"Angel went after him," Sofi quickly explained.

"He – he can't just – just  _leave_ ," Jack stood, beginning to pace, his eyes snapping towards his nephew –  _his nephew_ – every few moments.

"He isn't  _gone_ ," Sofi reasoned.

"You don't know that," Jack shook his head. "When Bobby walks out that door like that, he usually doesn't plan on comin' back."

"Angel will talk to him."

"Yeah?" Jack snapped. "Me too."

"Jack, calmate, calm down." Sofi stood too and was soon being pulled by Jack to the corner of the room.

"Look at him," Jack seethed out a whisper through clenched teeth while nodding towards the kid. "He's fuckin' scared as shit. And Bobby just  _walked away._ He  _left_ him. Doesn't matter if it's for an hour or forever. He fuckin' walked out."

"What are we supposed to do?" Sofi sighed.

"Drag him back here and kick his ass until some sense reaches his head," Jack spat.

Sofi gaped for a moment, seeing another side of one of the Mercer brothers she had never known existed before. While she was still in shock, Jack made to leave. Sofi recovered and caught his arm just before he reached the door.

"Wait," Sofi was half commanding, half pleading. "You said he's scared," she glanced at the boy. "He needs someone right now. If not Bobby, then you. Besides, you will get your turn with Bobby."

Jack's hard eyes found the boy and slowly softened. He knew that fear better than most. The kid might have looked like Bobby, but Jack could only see a child version of himself. With a defeated sigh, Jack made his way past Sofi and towards his nephew.

He didn't notice the way Sofi anxiously glanced towards the window, memories of some sort playing against her irises. He didn't pay attention to how panicked she had become when he was going to confront Bobby. He didn't hear her mumbling prayers in Spanish.

He also didn't hear the verbal brawl that was being waged just outside the house.


	3. Brawls and Beer

"What the fuck do you want?" Bobby turned on his brother like a man ready to strike out and kill at any moment.

"Bobby –"

"Don't start, little brother." Bobby's voice was low, far too low.

"Looks like you the one who started somethin' and now you're too much of boneheaded-Bobby to finish it." Angel advanced on his elder sibling coolly, as if he wasn't approaching this angered beast that was his brother.

"I said, don't fuckin' start!" Bobby's fists crashed against the side of the house.

"What you gonna do, Bobby, huh?" Angel suddenly lost his cool. "Bail?"

"Why the fuck not?" Bobby asked coldly.

"Why not? Why  _not?_ " Angel shook his head, his teeth grinding out his words. "Do you even have to fuckin' ask that question? I can't believe you, Bobby!"

"Don't give me some shit lecture," Bobby spat. "You'd run if you got your crazy ass girl knocked up –"

Bobby barely had the words out when his brother lunged at him. Angel's fist connected with Bobby's jaw hard enough to make the eldest Mercer stumble backward.

"You don't know  _shit_ , Bobby!" Angel shouted, raw rage fueling another attack.

Bobby was ready this time, dodging his brother's assault. Angel didn't even stop to catch his breath. Bobby was certainly the better fighter between them, but something in Angel had snapped. He slammed Bobby against the side of the house. Bobby easily enough broke free, striking his younger brother's face with his elbow. Angel staggered but quickly recovered. He tore into Bobby with almost feral movements. It wasn't until Bobby was on his back in the grass that Angel ceased his attack. Standing up, Angel left his brother on the ground.

"I'm done with you," Angel spat as he stalked away, not once looking back or turning around.

Bobby limped back inside the house, stomping his way through the hallway and to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, Bobby pulled out a beer and poured the numbing liquid down his throat. The bottle was barely empty before Bobby reached for another. He wasn't exactly sure how much he drank before the alcohol finally began having its desired effect and Bobby abandoned the fridge. Grabbing a dishcloth, Bobby carelessly wiped the blood from his brow and lip. With a grunt, Bobby tossed the rag into the sink. He punched the counter, and then the wall a few times. He was about to toss the toaster across the room when, instead, he abruptly turned and marched back down the hallway and bounded up the stairs.

He reached his mother's bedroom in record time, grabbing his duffel bag. Without even thinking or really watching what he was doing, Bobby began shoving clothes inside until a familiar voice interrupted him.

"So that's it?" Jack leaned against the threshold, arms wrapped tightly across his chest, his fingers curled into white-knuckled fists.

"Jack," Bobby's voice was just as dangerous, yet as carefully controlled as Jack's stance, "don't."

Explosions of emotions were blatantly being barricaded by both men. Their movements were stiff. Their jaw lines clenched and then dropped, only to tighten once more. Everything they said and did was measured and meticulous. When Jack made a move to enter, it was done so only after he had watched himself do it in his mind several times. He envisioned himself walking to the edge of the bed and sitting down calmly until he could actually do it without violently attacking his brother as he deeply desired to do so. Not to mention that this would be the first time Jack actually entered his mother's room since her death.

When Bobby paused his packing as Jack committed his rare act of boldness, he had to swallow several words. He didn't know if he was impressed or pissed. It was as if they were in a holding pattern.

It didn't take long for it to break.

"You're just gonna leave?" Jack finally pushed.

"Leave it alone, Jack." Bobby nearly broke the zipper as he ripped it across his bag.

"That the big Bobby Mercer plan?" Jack wouldn't stop; he couldn't. "Huh? Run away?"

"Don't push me right now."

"Push  _you?_ You're so fucking selfish!" Jack was off the bed in a flash of movement that even caught Bobby off guard. "You know that? Push  _you_? It's all about you, huh? Think you're forgetting about the girl you got pregnant, and oh, yeah, you're damn kid."

"This ain't your business."

"Bullshit Bobby! You're my brother! This  _is_ my business. Hell, let's make it Jerry's business too. I'll call –"

"You ain't tellin' him shit!"

"So, you runnin' away from one family, and lyin' to the other. Nice."

"I'm warnin' you, Jack," Bobby breathed as though the very action caused him restraint.

"All that shit that you always fuckin' spat at me about not runnin' away from your damn problems! You're a liar! You're a liar and a –"

Jack never finished that sentence. Bobby's fist finished it for him.

It was a first for the family. The boys were rough, of course, but when it came to Jack, no one ever hit him – ever.

In the moments that followed, everything around them seemed to fall silent. The echo of the punch and the crack of Jack's jaw lingered on the walls until all was hushed. It wasn't a peaceful silence, though. It was one of heavily weighted, almost magnetized, tension. It fell on them like fire. And like fire, they flamed.

"What would you do?" Bobby barked finally as he brought his arm down.

And then something else that had never happened before in the Mercer household occurred.

Jack hit back.

 


	4. Can't or Won't

_And then something else that had never happened before in the Mercer household occurred._

_Jack hit back._

Jack fought back at school or on the street for survival. He sparred with his brothers in fun and practice, and even then they all held back. There was no hesitation in this punch.

"I would stay!"

The rage that laced the quiet Jack Mercer's words would have shocked Bobby silent any other day.

"Jack Mercer,  _right_! The fuckin'  _Queen_  of leavin'! You always run."

"This ain't about me or my shit! And you wanna talk about runnin'? Before Ma – before we lost her – when was the last time you were home for Christmas? When's the last time you were home for more than a fuckin'  _month_ – or  _anywhere_ longer than you could stand it?"

"Bullshit," Bobby sidestepped the argument and swung it swiftly right back at Jack. "You run and hide 'cause you can't face –" Bobby's jaw snapped shut for the first time as what he was about to say he knew, even in his blind fury, would hurt Jack far more than any punch.

"Can't face what? Huh? Say it!"

"Jack –" The anger is Bobby's voice broke for a moment.

"No! I wanna hear you fuckin' say it, Bobby! Say what that bastard did to me! Say why I'm so fucked up! Say what I'm runnin' from! 'Cause it could be what your kid is runnin' from when he grows up."

Again, there was a ceiling of silence that crashed down on them.

"Damn it, Bobby, you  _know_!" Jack broke the silence, though his yell was now more of an exasperated sigh, his voice cracking with emotion. "You know what they go through, Bobby! You  _know_ what happens to those kids. Without you, that kid's got two options. Grow up on the streets like you n' Jerry, or be fuckin' raped by the system! Angel 'n I can tell you how _that_ worked out for us."

"Kid could get a good home," Bobby shrugged, his defenses now drawing in another direction.

"Why don't you try sayin' that like you fuckin' mean it? 'Cause you don't and you know it! Fuck, sure it could happen. Yeah. You're right. But a lot 'a other messed up shit could happen too. You're actin' like you don't even care! Just gonna gamble with his life, you  _son's_ life! How's he gonna feel if he grows up and finds out about his dad who was just too scared, or selfish, or stubborn, or whatever the hell this is, to save him?"

"You're bein' a bit dramatic, Jackie." It was odd how Bobby's voice wouldn't obey him to sound light and teasing like he wanted.

" _Dramatic_? You want fucking dramatic? How's findin' out your kid was fuckin' thrown around at men to make money so that some bastard could buy more drugs? Or watched his foster parent blow away the other parent, and then blow her own fuckin' brains out? Or was beat over the head so hard, he didn't wake up for a month? Or sold drugs and girls as a fuckin' teenager to not starve?"

Bobby internally winced as their childhoods were so vividly painted right in front of him.

"Bad shit happened to us, Jack, that don't mean –"

"It  _means,_ it could happen to your son. Or something worse. He might not get an Evelyn. He might not get a second chance.  _You're_ his chance. You. Right now. Can you deal with that? Can you live with being his only chance and lettin' him go?"

"I don't care," Bobby shoved his hands in his pockets, a trait Jack had picked up when avoiding emotions.

"Bullshit. Don't lie to me. Don't ever fucking lie to me. Bobby, I'm your brother. I know you. I can see you, man. So, until you have the balls to look me in the eye and say that shit, then don't ever say it again."

There was one last stretched silence that lingered between them.

"I can't be a father, Jackie," Bobby finally whispered, his hands now finding his face.

"Can't, or won't?" Jack repeated the words his mother had so often used to challenge him.

"You said it, man. You're my brother. Jack, you know me. I ain't – no way I can be –"

"No one is askin' you to be anything. All you got to do, is try. It ain't about bein' perfect 'n getting' everything right. Course you're gonna fuck up. If you're the worst fuckin' parent ever, well, then, you can give him to Jerry." Jack chuckled, causing Bobby to smile momentarily.

"I can barely take care 'a myself and you three girls."

"Well, you would have to get a real, you know,  _legal,_  job."

"Didn't mean money 'n shit,  _Jack_ -ass," Bobby glared, "I can get a damn job."

"I know what you meant," Jack sighed soberly. "Mom always wanted you to have to be more responsible and calm the fuck down. Maybe this'll finally do it."

"Ma's prolly rollin' in her damn grave, hearin' you put such  _vulgar_ words in her mouth," Bobby scolded with a smile.

"She'll be rollin' when she finds out you're gonna be a father."

"Never said I was," Bobby grunted.

"Sure you didn't, Bobby," Jack grinned. "Sure."


	5. Scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was originally going to be just the Jack/Bobby exchange, but I wanted to give everyone a chance to weigh in on the matter, even for a short story. I also wanted to show sides of characters we might not have seen (like angry, punching-Bobby Jack)

Jack had long since left Bobby and their mother's room. The eldest Mercer now simply sat on the bed, staring at his duffel bag.

"Bobby –"

"No," Bobby shook his head at the voice that drifted in from the hall, "no way in hell. Not now. Not today. Not ever."

"But Bobby –"

"I ain't talkin' to  _you_  'bout this." Bobby bit off.

"I don't want to talk to you about that."

"What?" Bobby huffed and then scoffed, softly cursing under his breath. "You'd be the first today."

"Can I talk to you about something else?"

"If I say 'no', you just gonna yap away anyway, right?"

"Bobby, this is serious."

Bobby stopped laughing to himself and finally looked over at the woman standing in the doorway. It was almost as if seeing her for the first time. Her eyes were shining, but not from joy or excitement. Dried tears streaked her cherry-flushed cheeks. Her lips were set in a purposeful frown. The lines around both her eyes and mouth spoke of someone not of aged beauty or years, but of life lived, and too much of it, too soon. She was painfully beautiful. There existed this depth to her features and person that Bobby had never once noticed before. This was a different person from the woman who he so enjoyed tormenting. He couldn't imagine even teasing this girl in front of him. He couldn't ever imagine wishing her harm. In that single, solitary moment, Bobby could not think of anything against her at all.

"Sofi, what happened? Is Angel –"

"Bobby, I need to tell you something about me. And about Angel. He doesn't want me to tell you. He doesn't want you to know. But I do."

She crossed the room when he didn't object or push further and delicately sat on the bed. This was serious. Bobby at least knew that much. Sofi secretly avoided Evelyn's room. Her eyes skipped over its door when she walked by. She would never talk to Bobby if he was inside. Subtle, almost undetectable things that no one else seemed to notice. Bobby did.

Sofi had loved Evelyn. She wasn't as broken over her death as the brothers, but she was not without her own chips and fractured fragments. Angel and Sofi had been together, albeit on and off, for what seemed like forever. He moved in with Evelyn, shortly after she moved in down the street, and into his brother's heart. She spent almost as much time as the boys did inside that house.

So when Sofi sat on the very edge of Evelyn's bed, Bobby stopped what he was doing, and for probably the first time, actually listened to her.

"A few years ago, before Angel left, something – happened. We – I – I got pregnant, Bobby."

The jokes that were second nature to the eldest Mercer skimmed over the edges of Bobby's brain as the rest of it tried to process what had just been dropped on him.

"Before you say anything, it was Angel's."

"Did you," Bobby started, but stumbled over his words, "did he – you had a  _kid_?"

"No, Bobby, I didn't," a whisper of air would have rivaled Sofi's soft voice as the weight of the statement fell upon Bobby. "Angel and I, we were scared. He was leaving. He wanted to go. Evelyn wanted him to go. So did I. I mean, not at first. Dios mío. No. But, he was so excited and I knew it was what he wanted, what he needed, to do. And then, well, it happened. I wasn't going to tell him, but how could I keep it from him? He said he wasn't ready. Neither was I. But, he let me decide. He said he would stay, for me, for us." Bobby wondered if Sofi realized she was cradling her stomach. "I was just so scared. I didn't know what to do. And my family? Aye, ¡que sería tan avergonzado de mí! Money? And what about me? What did I know about being a mother? Nada." Her hands dropped to her sides and then floated unsurely back to her flat stomach. "I did what I thought was best. For everyone. For the baby. But now? ¿Ahora? I think,  _for the baby_? How was what I did best for the baby? I – I killed her. I have dreams. I see my daughter. Maybe it was a girl. Maybe a boy. I will never know. And she will never know me, or Angel, or life, or anything. Because I was scared. Scared."

"Sofi, I –"

"No, Bobby." Sofi shook her head. "Don't say anything. Just listen. What happened – what  _I did_  – I can't change. Ever. But I made a choice. You have to make a choice, but you have to know that whatever you choose – your family loves you. Don't be mad at them. I made my choice, and Angel stood by me. But – I think he wanted to be a father. Don't tell him I told you that. Just, don't be mad at him for how he is being right now. He had the chance you had and he didn't get a choice. You do."

Sofi stood while Bobby sat, speechless.

"I told you I did what I did because I was scared," Sofi turned back as she headed toward the door. "The Bobby I know isn't scared of anything."

With that, Sofi quietly backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. She knew how much he needed to be alone right then.


	6. Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here it is, the conclusion to this little fic. I hope you've enjoyed it and I hope you like the ending. I didn't want to draw this out or make some big adventure out of it. The idea itself has been done to death, and that's not the story I wanted to write anyway. (Not saying that others who have posted Bobby having a son fics are bad or their stories are bad, some of them are very good!) This is just where I felt it should end. I always had the little conversation at the end sort of in mind, when this was going to be a one or two shot. But then I was inspired to write the chapters with Angel and Sofi. I also know Bobby's a bit OOC. Don't worry - he doesn't go soft or anything! But I think, having a kid changes you. People are different around their children than they are around others. And we saw a different side to Bobby when he talked with his nieces at Jerry's house in the movie too. Anyway, enough of my yammering.

Bobby wasn't quite sure how much time had passed as he sat on the edge of the bed, eyes now not on his bag, but on the chair in the corner. His mother's chair. It sat simply by the window. There was nothing special about the piece of furniture, not really, at least, just by looking at it. To Bobby, though, it was so much more.

It was where Jerry and Angel had spent their punishments. It was where Bobby had kicked back whenever he had popped into his mother's room unannounced to talk about something he could only talk to her about. It was where Evelyn had held Jack's small form after one of his nightmares. And of course, it was where she had sat. She read books, folded laundry, prayed, studied her Bible, read over case reports, knit, gazed out the window, gave her sons pep talks, or lectures, all from that one spot.

Gazing hard and long and the nondescript piece of furniture, Bobby could almost see her form once again, her kind eyes finding his.

_"Oh, Bobby."_

She would sigh and look at him, nothing more. That was all that was needed for his verbal floodgates to come crashing down.

"I can't do this, Ma." Bobby shook his head at the chair.

_"Can't, or won't?" Evelyn would challenge with a small smile. "Robert Mercer, you are a lot of things, but a quitter isn't one of them."_

"I can't quit if I don't start," Bobby argued.

_"I believe you already started when you chose to sleep with this girl."_

That was Evelyn. Straight to the point. No flowery, appropriate motherly words for her eldest son. She knew exactly how to get through that thick head.

_"He is your son."_

"Maybe," Bobby sighed, "but that don't mean I'm no father. 'Nough better people out there to take the kid."

_"Enough worse people too."_

"You sound like Jack."

 _"I won't waste time telling you about all the things this child could face without you as his father, Bobby. You already know what's out there. You've seen it. You've lived it. That's not what I want to talk to you about. What I_ will  _tell you is that you_ can  _do this. This is about your son. About that boy needing a father, yes. But this is also about_ you _. You don't think you can do this. You think you will fail him. Well, of course you will! Every parent does! You think I didn't make a few mistakes with you and your brothers? If I was the perfect mother I would've been able to keep you out of jail."_

"That ain't your fault, Ma."

 _"Exactly. I did my best with you boys, but that was all I could give. All you can give this child is your best, nothing more, nothing less. And you_ can _do that, Bobby. I know you, Robert Mercer. I watched you grow from a boy who burned down buildings to the man who would do anything for his family. I brought Jerry into this family because I knew you were ready to be a brother. Angel too. You think I could've handled those two on my own?" She would laugh here and then turn serious. "And Jack, well, you were always more than a brother to Jack. You protected him like a brother, taught him things a father would teach their son. You look out for him and he looks up to you. They all do. Why do you think they are so upset? They know you too. They know you can do this._ I  _know you can do this. You just have to believe it too. Because if you go into this, Bobby, thinking that you can't, then you_ will  _fail him. If you_ don't  _do this because you think you can't, you fail him too. But if you do this, and you_ know,  _like I know, like your brothers know, that you_ can _, then, no matter what, you will be a great father. Not perfect. But great."_

Bobby blinked and the chair was empty once more. He felt the stabbing tears beating behind his eyes and heart. Coughing to cage them, Bobby looked away from the seat. His gaze wandered into the hall, hovering there hesitantly. He paused only a moment before standing and marching out the door.

He made his way determinedly though the hall and down the stairs. His eyes flickered only briefly to his two brothers who were now sitting in the living room silently, the television on but no one watching it. Jack and Angel both cast him a curious glance but said nothing as Bobby charged past them. Bobby knew he would have to talk to them about their earlier conversations, especially Angel, but that could wait. He was determined now to do what he knew he had to do. As the eldest Mercer reached the threshold, though, his feet faltered. He stopped just before entering the dining room and stared at the scene in front of him.

Sofi was at the table, hunched over the small form of a boy. No, not just a boy. His  _son_. She placed a plate of what looked to be a sandwich in front of him and stroked his hair. He made no notice of either action. She whispered to him softly, seeming to be attempting to bring about some verbal response, nod, anything. She received nothing but a blank stare for her efforts.

Defeated, she straightened and then stiffened at the sight of Bobby. A slight smile played at the corner of her lips as she locked gazes with him for a secret shared moment. With a small bow of her head, she exited the dining room, leaving father alone with son.

Bobby shuffled over to the table and slumped down in the chair opposite of the silent boy. The child's distant and disturbed gaze slowly found his father's. It was the first time he had shown any recognition or notice of anyone since he had been quite literally dropped on their doorstep.

The kid's expression reminded him of both himself and Jack. He was obviously sizing Bobby up, all the while trying to appear stoic. And yet, behind those hard brown eyes was a certain hidden fear and longing. Just as behind Bobby's there was also fear.

Fear, but also, responsibility.

"Hey," Bobby grunted.

He may have had a new sense of confidence from his mother's words of wisdom, but he was certainly still not entirely comfortable. He could converse easily with Jerry's children. They were his nieces, and they were little girls. Boys were much more difficult for Bobby. And this wasn't his brother's kid. This was his son.

 _His son_.

The thought still tasted funny in his mind. But, no matter how he felt, he could do this. Evelyn was right, this was about him. And Jack was right too. This was about his son. Any fears Bobby had, he realized, were probably magnified inside of a little boy.

"I'm Bobby," the eldest brother and now father spoke softly, noticing the way the boy's eyes flickered some unknown emotion at the name. "Your – your dad. That there was Sofi, but that ain't what I call her. Over there are your Uncle Angel and Uncle Cracker Jack. You got an Uncle Jerry too but he's too busy being mister family man to come 'round here. He got a woman and two girls. Your – uh – cousins. I know I wouldn't be too happy 'bout havin' girls for cousins, and I know we don't look like much, 'specially Angelcakes, Jackie-Poo-limps-a lot out there and Loco Ono, but – we're your family now. No matter what. You got us. You got me. I ain't goin' nowhere. I ain't leavin'. You can leave if you want. I won't stop you. Sorry 'bout your ma and sorry that don't really mean shit to you right now. Just – well, just want you to know you ain't alone."

Bobby finished his speech with a heavy internal sigh. He was acutely aware of the three pairs of eyes in the other room that were fixed on him, and the grins they were all trying to suppress.

Turning his attention back to the boy, Bobby watched in muted contentment as the kid stared at him, then down at his plate. Without a word, the boy picked up the sandwich and took a bite. It was the smallest of actions, with the largest amount of significance.

"So," Bobby spouted, leaning back in his chair, "you gonna tell me your name or do I got to make one up for you like with Jackie-O and La Vida Loca."

"My – my name's Bobby too."

All sarcasm drained from Bobby's face and demeanor. His serious eyes locked with his son's wide and cautious, yet still hardened gaze.

It was the first time he had spoken since entering the house. If seeing him for that first time wasn't enough to send shockwaves to his heart, hearing the boy's voice made Bobby's chest heave. Not to mention that he never imagined  _anyone_ to be named after  _him_ , let alone his own son.

They both seemed moved by the revelation but neither spoke of it.

Bobby swallowed and leaned a little farther down into the chair, watching as the little Bobby returned to his sandwich. The boy didn't look at Bobby warily as he ate, in fact, he didn't look at him at all. They settled into a comfortable silence. Only Jack and Angel noticed their brother's silent string of tears from the other room. They shared a glance but didn't make a sound.

With all the shock, chaos, confusion, hurt, yelling and anger that had befallen the house within the last several hours, it seemed to settle into something just shy of a comfortable quiet.

Bobby knew it would not remain forever that way. Just as he knew his relationship with his son would take a lot more than just a simple introduction to grow. As he also knew that both of them would make mountains of mistakes. Bobby realized that he was going to screw something up one way or another here and there. He would just have to learn to balance that fear, with the responsibility. The good with the bad. The mistakes with the lessons. Bobby wasn't going to be the perfect parent.

And he was okay with that.


End file.
